


Life, Living it, and Filling in the Blanks

by Snowsheba



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Humanstuck, Illustrated, basically the strilondes are a huge confusing dysfunctional family, but they get it together in the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-03 11:29:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowsheba/pseuds/Snowsheba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You realize I'm going to look like a world-class douche in these," you say skeptically, fingering the triangular shades with a quiet trepidation.</p><p>"Nah, man, you're wearing them <em>ironically</em>." He takes out another pair, this one rounder and resembling aviators but somehow not at the same time. "I'll wear them too so people will know it's a thing." You stare at him, one eyebrow raised, and he simply flashes you a smirk before dark lenses are obscuring his orange eyes from view. </p><p>"From now on, we'll be referred to as those two douches wearing sunglasses indoors."</p><hr/><p>Or, in which an albino and a fraud learn how to pave a path to their own individuality, even when the world has already thrown so much against them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life, Living it, and Filling in the Blanks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tumblr user xayti](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tumblr+user+xayti).



> Written for [xayti](http://xayti.tumblr.com/) on tumblr and based on [this post](http://xayti.tumblr.com/post/68102375210/this-dream-i-had-though-it-was-an-au-where-all). All of the art in this work belongs to xayti - only the writing is mine.
> 
> Psst, hey! If pictures are too small for you to read, click on them for a larger size!
> 
>  **EDIT** : A new pic has been added, and apologies for pictures that didn't show up! That was my bad and hopefully it has now been fixed. Thanks for all the support, and be sure to send your love to [xayti](http://xayti.tumblr.com/), too!

TT: Dirk.

The screen glows softly in the darkness of the room, illuminating what you know is a pale, gaunt face, scarlet eyes blinking through white lashes and sharp cheeks. Your mouth is set in a thin line, and you can feel the silence and darkness around you as your whole world focuses on the response you can see he is typing.

TT: No. Shut up.

Your incisor worries your lower lip, as your thin fingers fly across the keyboard.

TT: Dirk. Please.  
TT: I don't want to be alone.  
TT: You were managing fine earlier.

You don’t know why this hurts you, leaves your heart like it's been cleaved in half, stomped on, and thrown into the trash, and you hate yourself as you try to keep the discussion going, to have him stay with you, to stay with him. You watch with unseeing eyes as a feeble threat is typed and entered onto the screen.

  
[ ](http://40.media.tumblr.com/fc2cf39cecc58742ce636e62791e99c8/tumblr_mwucamKci41scl9bto1_1280.jpg)

The response is slow to come, and all of the atrocities you committed against him, all of the times you annoyed and bothered and pestered him, everything, all of it, weighs heavy on your shoulders when you see what he wrote.

TT: Goodbye, Hal.

Your fingers fall from the keys, and your face goes into your hands.

Your name is HAL STRIDER, and as you bring your knees to your chest, you are ashamed of the tears that slide down your face.

* * *

It had started innocuously enough, these discussions with Dirk. He was one of your older brothers, but you hadn't really spent that much time talking to him. You didn't really talk to anybody, really, unless someone was drunk or high and clicked on your handle instead of blond-haired Dave's. That happened often enough:

TT: What is life?  
TT: Dude, what.

TT: Why are we given life?  
TT: Are you high.

TT: What is the meaning of life?  
TT: Dirk, this is like the third time you've asked me that this month.

Honestly, you hadn't really been in touch with your brothers-sort-of-not-really for as long as you can remember - there's, like, four of you if you include yourself, and it's hard enough to keep your life on track without having to worry about the rest of them. And then add in the two Lalonde sisters, and any family reunion you had ends in people getting so smashed they write and throw wizard porn out the window (that's secondhand information from blond-haired Dave, because you hadn't actually been there).

So, yeah. You really didn't talk to people much. Kept to yourself. You liked it that way, because no one bothered you about your hair or eyes or complexion, which was white, red and pale, respectively. Sure, there were times when you were feeling down, and you wanted to talk to someone about your poor life choices, but really, you always brought yourself back up again, if you tried hard enough.

And then one day, Rose Lalonde - the youngest sister but fourth oldest, with you and orange-haired Dave behind her if you've got your math right - pestered you and asked you to check up on Dirk.

TT: Why, is there something wrong with him?  
TT: I confess that I am not entirely sure. He has not been responsive to my texts, and promptly hung up when I contacted him via telephone.  
TT: I guess I could try to talk to him.  
TT: But I haven't pestered him in, like, ever. For conversation purposes, anyway. I don't think I'll be able to help much.  
TT: As long as he responds, that is good enough for me. Perhaps if you could do it on a daily basis? Just a little note, to see if he says anything?  
TT: Uh.  
TT: Well, sure, I guess.  
TT: Thank you, Hal. I do really appreciate it.

As soon as Rose signed off with well wishes, you click on one of two orange handles on the side of the Pesterchum app and type a short message.

TT: Dirk, it's Hal. I've heard that you aren't really responding to anybody's texts and/or calls, so, uh.  
TT: I'm probably not the best person to talk to because I'm this third party guy you almost never see, but yeah, is there anything wrong or something?

You don't get any answer, so you sigh and flick to a new tab, where you had been scanning the headlines on the New York Times. Unlike your brothers, you like to keep track of what is going on everywhere, and you're often heralded as the smart one of the bunch given your capacity to remember almost everything you've ever learned. You're analyzing a journalist's poor wording of a disaster in Florida when, to your surprise, there is a _ping!_ noise that indicates a response.

TT: Life is shit.  


A faint smile curls your lips, and you respond immediately.

TT: But at least you're alive.

You don't expect a response, and you don't get one, but you have officially gotten the achievement of 'response from Dirk Strider'. Well done, you, and you give yourself a mental pat on the back as you send a quick note to Rose about the news.

And that is how you got stuck with Dirk day-and-night-care duty.

* * *

The next day you wake up ensconced in the warm darkness of your bedroom at the early hour of one o'clock in the afternoon. You roll over, scrabble around for your phone, and send another quick pester to Dirk as per Rose's suggestion as you blink your eyes blearily.

TT: Yo.  
TT: Did Rose sign you up for this?

You smirk to yourself as you sit up, because Dirk is just as smart as you and you were surprised yesterday when he hadn't said anything.

TT: Might've. Why do you ask?  
TT: You don't even care, so stop fucking asking how I am, a'ight.

Ouch. The smirk drops off of your face, because that's what he would think, and because it's half-correct.

TT: Harsh, dude. Aren't I like your flesh and blood or something?  
TT: Not really. Go away.  
TT: Come on, Dirk, grow up. You're acting like I'm trying to get into your personal business just to make fun of your life.  
TT: You, out of every single person I have on my chumroll right now, would be the one most likely to do that.  
TT: Uh, no, I wouldn't. Jesus Christ.  
TT: Really.  
TT: Yeah, really. Look, you want an analysis on my personality, go talk to Dave or Rose or Roxy.  
TT: ...  
TT: Mm-hm, how about you go do what I said and then get back to me.

You know he will go check with blond-haired Dave, Rose _and_ Roxy just to see if you're telling the truth, and you give it about fifteen minutes before he comes back and responds to you. You decide you have enough time for a shower and turn your computer on, letting it run its system as you pad through your small, snug apartment to the bathroom.

When you return, rubbing your hair with a towel and smelling of sweet artificial strawberry, you see no response. This does not concern you yet, and you sit down in front of your computer and bring up the coding you're doing for a client somewhere. You're going to have to finish this by the end of the week, and while you are well on your way to doing just that, you set to work on it for lack of something better to do.

Your phone buzzes at the same time as your computer pings a few minutes later, and you temporarily abandon your work to see what Dirk has to say.

TT: I have a problem.

Bingo, you've gotten exactly where you needed to. Rose will be pleased.

TT: I'm not so bad after all, huh?  
TT: Shut up, everyone still says you're an ass.  
TT: It's about Jake.  
TT: Don't tell me, you asked him out and he said no?  
TT: He said yes.  
TT: Oh. Good for you, dude.  
TT: I don't see why there's a problem.  
TT: Yeah, well, I was getting to that.  
TT: There's a problem because he likes Jane.  
TT: ... But doesn't know how to tell me he wants to break up.

You blink at the words for a few moments, twisting the words in your head because yes, that is indeed a problem. But it can't be that big of a deal, can it? Unless they've been dating for a long time. Huh, maybe you should check up on your sibs every now and then, it would really help you in situations like these.

TT: Uh... why not just tell him you know about it?  
TT: Because I  
TT: I don't know, it's really dumb. But I don't want him to... leave. I guess.  
TT: There comes a time when one must leave the nest, Dirk.  
TT: That's not what I meant, doucheface.  
TT: Psh, fine. The face of douche now asks 'what _did_ you mean, then? '  
TT: Oh my god, I just remembered why I don't talk to you very much. But you know what, whatever, I've already come this far.  
TT: It's like... I think I know what I mean, but I'm not sure.  
TT: And I really hope I'm wrong.  
TT: Yeah, that made perfect sense.  
TT: But what's the worst that could happen, bro? The only thing that would really make this suck is if you were emotionally attached to him. I don't know if you are or not, obviously.  
TT: I fucking knew you wouldn't understand, Hal. Why did I even tell you?  
TT: Wait. Wait a minute, dude, I just thought of something.  
TT: Are you, like, head-over-heels for him?  
TT: Dirk?  
TT: Oh my god, are you in love with him?

There is a whole fifteen seconds wherein there is no reply, and the only thought circling your head is _fuck I must have broken him_.

TT: I  
TT: I think so.  
TT: Holy shit.

That was literally your automatic response - you didn't even have to think about it before the words were glowing back at you from the screen. Oops. You probably should've handled that better.

... Yeeeeeah, maybe you aren't going to tell Rose about this, and when Dirk doesn't respond, you go right back to coding while tucking this new tidbit about him in the back of your mind, wondering how on Earth he'd manage to get through and find a loophole.

* * *

Little did you know it would snowball from there.

Chats with Dirk began to range from him angsting for hours at a time to rap battles that ended atrociously because you both had large vocabularies and you both tried to one-up each other by using the most obscure, longest words you could find. Those were always the most enjoyable because you two were so similar no one ever won, and you had the pleasure of going against an opponent who knew what he was doing for once.

Then there were the times when he told you the long, agonizing story of how he and Jake officially got together, and you were there when he painfully told you how they broke apart. You listened to him a lot, sympathized with his 'man-pain' or whatever he called it, and never bothered telling him about you because you were under the impression he had more issues and he didn't care. (He really didn't.)

But yeah, it was the weirdest feeling the first week of all this, because for the first time in your life, you were actually holding a conversation with someone - with your brother-not-really, even - regularly.

Would wonders never cease?

* * *

But, as with most things, it didn't last. Mostly because you were a dumbass and Dirk could hold grudges for a very long time.

It had been innocent, well, innocent enough for you, anyway, when you hacked into his Pesterchum account and began to pretend you were him - to get back on him when he'd taken your code and programmed it into showing videos of, for lack of better description, _weird things_ , forcing you to restart from scratch. It's easy for you even now, to slip into his way of typing, his writing style, to even copy how he raps. No one could tell the difference, not even Dave who'd known him longest, and it was all fun and games until Dirk found out and got pissed at you. Like, _really_ pissed at you.

Needless to say, you think to yourself, this had ended badly, and you push away from your computer with a sigh, wiping rapidly at your face with your skinny white arm. Your entire world had revolved around your computer since he'd come along, and when you stand up and feel your bones creak and your muscles yawn with tired pain, you realize that was probably one of the dumber decisions in your life. Christ, when was the last time you went grocery shopping? Or taken a shower, for that matter. Good thing you work at home, else you would've gotten complaints left and right for the electric bill and the B.O.

When you grab your coat off of the rack, black with red lines, sort of like circuitry but not, you shrug into it without looking back. You'll get through this, just like you always do. You don't need to rely on orange text to keep you up and going this morning, and you won't need it any other day, either. You'll just keep calm and carry on, and you'll be independent and confident as you do so.

...

You hate how you can't even fool yourself, as you lean against your closed door and silently weep.

* * *

TT: All is well, I presume.  
TT: Define 'well' and I'll get back to you later.  
TT: Dirk seems to have returned to his previous spirits, though he seems a trifle miffed about something or other.  
TT: I assume you know something about it.  
TT: It has to do with me. Please leave me alone.  
TT: Why? What's the matter?  
TT: Hal?  
TT: Oh dear.

* * *

He finds you when you least expect it - that is, in one of your rare moments of weakness, as you are leaning back against the brick wall in an alley with your head resting in your hand - and you are only brought out of your inner turmoil when his voice floats into your ears.

"Yo. Dirk was actin' all weird again so I figured I'd go to the one who's been talkin' to him regularly and wow what okay then." His tone had changed completely when you turn your head to face him and he sees the misery etched into your features- or maybe it's because of your red eyes, pasty face and white hair, who knows, not that he's much different with all of his orangey-ness. "Dude, you okay, you look like shit."

"Define 'okay'," you grumble in reminiscence of the chat with Rose earlier, and it comes out halfhearted and you know your eyes are giving all of your emotion away. He gives you a curious look as you look away and ask, your voice soft, "What do you want, Dave."

There is a pause before he begins to speak. "I just told you, I wanna know what's up with the older bro. He's being even more of a dick than usual." Dave - the other Dave, not the real Dave, that one is blond and ridiculously stoic and this one is just orange, orange, orange - peers at you curiously, his head cocking with a birdlike intensity. "Seems to me you're worse off, though. You two had a fallin' out?"

Your silence is answer enough, and you turn away as he comes to stand next to you, blinking those clementine eyes of his owlishly, and then he asks with brutal frankness, "Did you do somethin' he didn't like or what?"

"Something like that."

"So, what, he got pissed? Started arguing with you?" He chuckles, and he doesn't see you narrow your eyes at him. "I can see that, Dirk's never been known to play nice."

"It's more that he started to - " You stop, hesitate, think. Should you tell him? You barely know him, you barely talk to him. More than the others, sure, since he seems to like to check up on you, but still, that's only once a month or so. But, in the end, you find that even despite your misgivings, as you slowly slouch down the wall until you're sitting and hugging your legs, you are miserable enough that the words spill out of your mouth like the little traitors they are.

  
[ ](https://31.media.tumblr.com/488824a93c2e4157b03246815de5e6eb/tumblr_mwucamKci41scl9bto2_1280.jpg)

He says nothing for a while, his head still tiled at that infuriating angle and his eyes glowing with numerous unspoken questions. He only ever did ask the important ones, you remember ruefully, as he inquires, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." You take a moment to collect your bearings, and then you force yourself to your feet and give him a superficial smile. "I don't really feel like talking right now, Dave. Maybe later." _Or maybe never._

He snorts, grabs your arm as you begin to walk. "Hell no am I letting you go that easy. I'll come with you. Where you going?"

You look at him tentatively as he stares back with earnest goodwill. Of all the times you'd seen and conversed with him personally, he had never shown this kind of interest in your life beyond "you doing okay, all right good", and it makes you nervous. "Grocery," you say cautiously, confident you could lose him in the trinket and knickknack area; he'd always had a weakness for shiny, useless things.

"Cool. Lead the way, bro."

You do, and you find you are a little disappointed when you do successfully abscond with your foodstuffs when he is distracted in the trinket area. You aren't sure why, and you don't dwell on it because you are afraid.

* * *

TG: wasnt cool to just leave me stranded bro  
TT: I told you I didn't want to talk.  
TG: can you blame a dude for trying i mean you looked terrible so i thought id stick around to find out why  
TG: you couldve at least humored me  
TT: Please stop messaging me. I'm in the middle of a project right now.  
TG: no can do  
TG: listen you free sometime later today  
TT: No.  
TG: oh please we all know youre just gonna be coding on your computer you can spare some time  
TG: look i just wanna talk to you you know  
TG: have a sleepover even idk whatever you feel like we can paint our toenails and put bows in our hair and shit  
TG: just because striders are known for being dicks doesnt mean we have to ignore our own family right  
TT: Neither of us have ever really been 'part of the family', Dave.  
TT: Hell, you have the same name as the real Dave. What kind of originality is that?  
TG: dont call him real dave okay im also real dave and im so done with that bs  
TT: ... Yeah, I can relate.  
TG: what being teased because of a fucking name  
TT: That, even though I changed mine.  
TT: And because of the first name, I'm forever trying to get out of a certain someone's shadow.  
TG: yeah i feel that  
TG: and then youre never ever really understood you feel  
TT: You're always alone.  
TG: always being ignored when youre not alone  
TT: Finding friends, and losing them just as quickly.  
TG: never being taken seriously  
TT: Your talents and abilities being brought down or put to shame.  
TG: always being compared and never taken as a person  
TT: Never having a personality beyond your brother's, at least in a stranger's eyes.  
TG: yeah  
TG: yeah you get me bro i appreciate that  
TT: On second thought, I do have time later today. You have somewhere in mind?  
TG: pizza hut at 3  
TT: I'm down for that. See you there.

* * *

You bond with him over five-cheese pizza ("Ew, sausage. You can't even tell what it is when it's covered in molten goodness which makes it all the eviler, you feel me?"), two comfy, plush armchairs, and wistful memories.

"Dirk and Dave don't care that much about me," he confesses, almost disgustingly sincere as he lays tucked on one corner of the chair. He's not like any of your brothers, as he lets emotions flick across his face like passing clouds like a normal person, and you can respect him for that. "No one does, really, except Rose because she's a nosy lady who likes to keep track of everyone's shit for them - "

" - because she thinks she can do it better," you finish, and you share a smirk with him before he bites into his pizza. You tell him while he's chewing, "I never bothered reaching out to anybody because no one did ever like me too much."

"Can't really blame them, bro," he says bluntly through his mouthful, and you wince internally at the truth of his words. He masticates for a bit longer before swallowing and informing you, "Your ugly mug is right next to the definition of 'removed from society'. You're the most introvertest introvert that ever introverted."

"Hey, fuck you, my face is the finest porcelain. Even the color matches." He snorts and says nothing, and you can't help a little smile and the little pause before you speak again.

"It's hard to go outside," you admit, and a flicker of understanding comes and goes across his face. God, why can't you do that? Expressions are easier for you to muster than Dave and Dirk both, but you still find it hard to smile and do that sort of thing he just did. "I get headaches pretty easily."

"S'why you got your hood up right now, huh." You nod, and he does that little head-tilt of his. "I used to have that problem too, when I was younger. Not so bad anymore, except on beaches or snowy days."

"Lucky you," you say in the most wretched tone you can muster, and he rolls his clementine eyes. You don't stop him when he reaches forward and plucks your uneaten crust from your plate, popping it into his mouth like it's the most delectable part of the pizza.

"The crust is the best part," he says a second after you think that, and you can't help it, you start to laugh, and as he tries to hold back a grin even though he doesn't quite know why you're laughing and insists, "It is, you just need to give it a chance."

Now you remember why conversing with people in real life, rather than through a screen, can be so invigorating, as you tell him why you are laughing and he slaps a hand against his own mouth to stifle honest-to-goodness giggles. You have never acted so uncool in your life as you cover your face with your fingers with your shoulder shaking, never acted like this with your family ever in a public setting, and you have never felt so free.

* * *

TT: Are you all right, Hal? You acted rather harried last time we conversed.  
TT: Yeah. Things aren't so bad right now.  
TT: That's good to hear. However, I fear I must once again bring up the topic of Dirk, as it slipped my mind to ask you earlier.  
TT: Did you find out what was going on?  
TT: He fell in love with his boyfriend who wanted to break up with him, if that's what you want to know.  
TT: It wasn't very exciting, to be honest, and it's all over already.  
TT: I see. Thank you.  
TT: You are certain that you are all right?  
TT: I'm fine, Rose, you don't have to worry.  
TT; If I don't partake in its joyless party, who will?   
TT: Do not answer that.  
TT: I hope you know you can contact me should you need anything.

* * *

You and Dave meet up every now and then the two weeks afterwards, usually once a day at lunch, to keep in touch. You're afraid this friendship will crumble just like the last one, but at the same time, you think it won't, because you've told him more about yourself in two days than you told Dirk over an entire month. Something about this Dave and not the other makes you unwind; maybe it's the similarities, maybe it's how you can relate to each other, or maybe it's because he actually gives an actual fuck about you and doesn't just give you words when you're not feeling great.

Such as when you meet up in Subway and, before you cross the street and go inside, he turns to you and offers you something triangular and black.

  
[ ](https://31.media.tumblr.com/c3d219794ade5c12427f9c80f21c214d/tumblr_mwucamKci41scl9bto3_1280.jpg)

You stare at him uncomprehendingly for a couple of seconds, then at the sunglasses skeptically for a few more. You're not sure what to think, and it shows on your face.

  
[ ](http://41.media.tumblr.com/a5896e9299583062715fd69184c6479a/tumblr_mwucamKci41scl9bto4_1280.jpg)

He grins a shit-eating grin and takes out another pair, this one rounder and resembling aviators but somehow not at the same time, and slips them over his own face as you take the sunglasses from his hand.

  
[ ](http://40.media.tumblr.com/793e6bbe65dce63ec5812a3e9a8bb4c8/tumblr_mwucamKci41scl9bto5_1280.jpg)

He flutters around nervously a bit after that, hands behind his back, lips twisting down into a frown as you settle them more securely on your face. Waiting for your approval, it seems. It takes a moment to adjust; what had been a bright world before has dimmed to a more bearable level, though light still comes from strange angles given the shape of the shades. His own sunglasses look like the eyes of one of those cartoon aliens, black and eerie and shiny, and you feel your lip struggle to quirk upwards at the thought. Yeah, you think, these are actually pretty nice.

After a moment, you lower your hood and give him a flicker of a smile, and he gives you the most boyish, happy look you've seen on him before dragging you into Subway, clamoring about what he was going to order without a single break in stride.

* * *

You complete more codes and programs for more clients. Your screen name, AR or Lil Hal depending on how well your client know you, is becoming renown on the Internet world - on the few forums you've prowled through in curiosity, your name pops up among the masters of your trade. You think you'll probably get an offer to counter malware, but viruses have never been your thing. (You're waiting, in fact, for one of your occasional partners, PSIIONIIC, to be recruited for exactly that.) Maybe you'll be able to get a cooler job at some point, but for now, your work pays the bills and that's all that matters.

Dave, meanwhile, is floundering.

TG: hal i am actually desperate here i just got laid off fucking _again_  
TT: I have money if you need any.  
TG: if i take your money ill just keep on taking it so no thanks but seriously i am not having an easy time  
TG: and im gonna do a subject change real quick please take notice  
TT: The subject change has been recognized. Please continue.  
TG: asshole  
TG: okay so i was thinking about this last night  
TG: about how you live alone and stuff  
TG: and i know im like the most annoying shit on the planet and all that trust me i know  
TG: but would you be totally opposed to moving in with me

Your heart is already thumping an answer, even though your mind is trying to deliberate like the logical clockwork it is.

TT: Huh.  
TG: i dont know if thats a yes but if it is we can do the whole domestic thing you clean dishes i do laundry and shit  
TG: it could be totally fucking hilarious whenever someone comes over were yelling at each other as we beat the rugs and mop the floor or whatever  
TG: i dont have money to pay rent this month and if i cant do it now then ill have to do it later and i dont think ill be able to do that so  
TT: Where do you live, exactly?  
TG: oh yeah about that it might be better if i come to your place mine has roaches  
TT: Hm.  
TG: still dont know if thats a yes or not  
TG: yo hal  
TG: hal you still there dont leave me hanging  
TG: earth to hal daves still in deep shit  
TT: Sorry.  
TT: To answer your question, sure. Let's do it.  
TG: dave still needs your help to oh  
TG: omg  
TG: omg really are you sure  
TT: Well, yes. We're family, after all. We should look after each other.  
TG: most logical thing anyones ever said of all us fucked up siblings  
TG: thanks bro i will make sure you do not regret this i promise

* * *

A few days after he moves in, Dave's furiously typing at your computer when you come back from the grocery store, the computer's soft glow enhancing the lines of the scowl on his face. You don't even have to ask who he's pestering as you set the plastic bag in the kitchenette and approach him; without a word you drape yourself across the back of the chair, flicking your shades to your forehead so you can see the conversation more easily.

TG: shut the fuck up dirk you dont have to tell me whats good for me  
TT: You don't know what he's done. He's a liar and you shouldn't even talk to him, let alone live with him!  
TG: he may have done some stupid shit in the past but that doesnt mean he hasnt changed  
TG: i think hes lost and i also think you didnt give him enough of a chance asshole

"Hey, fuck you, who says I'm lost?"

"Dude, the first time we met up at Starbucks, you literally couldn't find your way back here."

You sigh. "Touché."

"Also, just like all of us, you don't know what to do with the rest of your life." Dave tilts his head back until he can meet your eyes, his shades threatening to slip off of his head completely even as they tangle in his orange locks. You hate that earnest look as much as you admire it, and he finishes up with, "So yeah, lost."

You don't say anything, just stare down at him with what you think is probably an embarrassingly sincere and/or shocked expression, and he gives you a small smile before returning to the pinging of the computer.

TT: I would know, dude, I talked with him regularly for a long time. You shouldn't associate with him.  
TG: one month is not a long time and i doubt he told you anything about himself  
TT: Yes, he did.  
TG: anything significant like where he lives and what he does for work or whats his favorite color  
TT: Red.

"My favorite color isn't red."

"I know." You believe him.

TG: anything else on the list

When Dirk doesn't respond, Dave sighs and leans forward on the computer's desk, mumbling something under his breath. You catch the words "arrogant" and "dick" multiple times, and you think you've seen enough to know Dave has it under control, so you go back to your tiny kitchen and put the food you'd bought away. Afterwards, you busy yourself with doing the dishes because just as Dave had said, you had this domestic schedule going on and doing the dishes is your job.

When he does finally emerge from your room you say, "Catch," and toss him a bottle of apple juice, which he hails as a god much like real Dave. He catches it effortlessly and snaps the cap open with his thumb, chugging about half of it, head back, as you ask, "How bad?"

He swallows one last time and says, "Bluh," before he makes a face and closes the bottle, flipping it back and over in his hand, never letting it come close to falling. You wait patiently as he gathers his thoughts, setting the bottle on the counter, and then he growls, "He hacked your computer and got your IP address, and now he's probably going to visit and try to do an intervention."

You blink at him, he grimaces back, and you both sigh simultaneously. "Well, I haven't seen him in, like, two years," you joke, and your voice sounds artificial even in your ears, "What's the worse that could happen," and Dave is over in a flash when your knees start to shake and you have to lean on the counter to stay upright, his arm snug around your shoulders as he leads you to the couch in your living room.

"Hey, don't worry, man, it's gonna be chill," he says, forcibly sitting you down before doing so himself. "Dirk will be the little shit he is and then we can send him on his way, no problem." You feel a little better when he says 'we', and then you decide that you ought to be honest with him, because he's already done a lot for you and you're pretty sure he deserves to know exactly why you are internally freaking out.

"Do you know why he's so mad at me?" you ask him weakly, curling up on the couch's cushions. He tucks himself on the opposite side, tilting his head for a second, and then he shakes his head, once.

Your mouth is suddenly dry, and you cough into your fist. You don't quite know why you are suddenly so afraid, but you force the words through a thick tongue. "Did he ever contact you randomly sometime in the last two weeks?" you ask hesitantly because you know what the answer will be, but you still hope you will be somehow wrong.

His eyebrow furrows in thought for a few moments, but he nods and your stomach clenches. "Yeah, I remember thinkin' it was kind of weird. Had a rap battle with him for the first time in ages as far as I can remember, too." His attention refocuses on you. "Why, d'you have something to do with his sudden interest in his outcast little brother?"

"In... a sense." You squirm a bit as he stares, even though you're not sure if he's looking because of his sunglasses. "What would you say if I said that I did, uh. Something really stupid?"

"Call you a dumbass and move on." His response is prompt, and he rolls his eyes behind his shades as he says impatiently, "Look, I'm totally not pressing the issue and asking you what you did, but I'm totally pressing the issue and asking you what you did."

"I mean, really stupid. Like, you'll-probably-hate-me stupid."

"Bro, I don't think I have the capacity to hate you. You're just so helpless," and he leans forward and pinches your cheeks like he's a grandma. You wince because he did it too hard and there will be a bruise in the morning (such are the hardships of having delicate skin), and also because you are not _helpless_ , thank you very much, as he falls back and says, "C'mon, tell me. What did you do."

"I wasn't not going to tell you -"

"You're stalling. Get to the point."

"Hey, not cool, if you wouldn't interrupt me - "

"Hal, I am asking you as a concerned individual who cares for your physical as well as mental well-being." That silences you, and he asks, gently, "What did you do?

You don't say anything for a long time, unsure of how to phrase your words. He doesn't rush you, not for the first thirty seconds; after that, his leg abruptly straightens out to kick your own, and you yelp in surprise and then blurt, "You didn't actually talk with Dirk that day, you were talking with me!" without even thinking about it.

For a few agonizing moments, you're afraid, as he stares at you emotionlessly behind his shades. You wish you had bothered to slip yours back over your face, when you gone to put the food away; now he can see as your scarlet irises flicker around nervously, looking everywhere but him.

"That's it?" he says at last, and you jump at the incredulous tone. "That's your oustandingly awful secret?"

You sputter at him for a few moments before getting the words out. "I was impersonating him," you say, trying to get him to _see_ why this is such an issue. "I was pretending to _be_ him online."

"So?"

"I took his identity and _acted_ like him - "

Dave interrupts you when he starts to cackle, holding his hands over his stomach as he doubles over laughing, and he only just manages the words out after an uncomfortable few seconds, "Oh god, oh my god, Jesus Christ on a cracker, why didn't you do it sooner, bro? I swear the fucker deserves nothing less."

You stare at him, unbelieving, but you are thankful for his understanding, however strange, as cool relief flows down your system.

* * *

TT: How fares your new roommate?  
TT: How have you already heard about that? Jeez, Rose.  
TT: A little bird told me.  
TT: You mean Dave did.  
TT: Yes. We do still keep in touch, after all.  
TT: You are doing all right as well, I presume.  
TT: Yeah, I'm doing okay. Dave's pretty chill. And it's nice not being by myself all the time, I guess.  
TT: I'm glad to hear that.

* * *

You come out of your room a few days later, after finishing a code and sending it on its way, to find him splayed face-first on the couch, completely motionless except for a habitual twitch of his right foot. You're not sure what's wrong, given how Dave is prone to mood-swings when he is 'aj-deprived', and you ran out of apple juice yesterday.

You garner your courage to talk to him as you get closer.

  
[ ](http://24.media.tumblr.com/bfde6757761869c8d019d58fca3d632e/tumblr_mwucamKci41scl9bto7_1280.jpg)

You'd known he didn't spend the whole day doing nothing at your apartment, but you hadn't known he had a girlfriend. It had just never come up, he never mentioned or brought her to the apartment, and he was always out looking for a job most of the time, so he had said. You can't find it in you to be all that angry he hid something from you, though, because it's not like you haven't kept secrets from him, and anyway it's not a big enough deal to really concern you.

"That sucks," you say lamely, and then you sit on the arm of the couch by his head, curling one leg against you while the other remains propped on the ground to keep your balance. "What happened?"

"Stupid shit," Dave grumbles, still hiding his face from you but at least he is actively talking to you. You sit quietly as he mumbles, "Something about real Dave being better than me. _Gah_."

"Not the first time," you guess, and at Dave's prolonged groan you take it you're right. You sigh and murmur, "How often will those two steal our thunder, Jesus dick."

"You're telling me," Dave says, rolling over so he can look up at you. His orange eyes are red and puffy, and as he stares at the ceiling as you carefully brush some strands of hair from his forehead, he growls, "It's always him, always the real Dave. 'He's so much cooler,' 'he's so dreamy,' 'he totally pulls off the cold douche front,' 'why aren't you like him?' I am one hundred percent done with everything related to Dave motherfucking Strider."

You don't say how in that sentence he is also talking about himself, given his name is also exactly that, and instead say quietly, "How long?"

He lets out a long exhale through his nose, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Seven months strong, with the anniversary a week ago," he replies softly.

"Oh." Brilliant, Hal, simply brilliant. You try for a distraction and end up with "Was she nice?" and immediately berate yourself because you're stupid.

Forunately your brother doesn't seem to take it the wrong way. Instead, Dave's expression changes completely at your query, his jaw slackening and the crease in his forehead disappearing, and his eyes get a faraway look. It takes him a few moments to actually say something, and you feel a twinge of envy as he breathes, "She was amazing. She was always happy and cheerful and so - so alive, you get?" You don't, having never dated anyone in your life, but you nod and he continues in an awed voice, "She'd drag me out in the rain and laugh when I complained, and we'd go on walks with her huge dog-beast, and she'd tell me about science and we'd play music together and just, god, I don't know. She was great."

"I'm sorry," you say with sincere lameness. "She sounds cool."

He laughs low in his throat, and a smile spreads across his face. "You know, man, I just realized that out of everyone in our family, you're the only one without any dirt that can really be used against you, you innocent lonely creature you." Where the hell did that come from? You look at him, baffled, as he reaches up and pats your arm, an awkward movement given his position. "It ain't your fault, bro, and I can deal."

The following silence stretches for exactly three seconds.

"Don't even pull that bullshit, Dave," you say, a little more forcefully than you meant it to be, and he blinks owlishly at you, his jaw opening slightly as you continue, "You just broke up with someone you've been dating for a significant amount of time, do you think I'd really buy it if you said you were all right?"

"It really isn't your problem, though," Dave says, and you can tell he is uncomfortable, though he doesn't say so outright. "I don't want to, like. Worry you or something."

"What do you think I do with my time except worry?" Ha ha, now you sound like Rose. You flap a dismissive hand when he opens his mouth again, no doubt cutting a snide remark short, and tell him, "Look, just humor me, okay. Is there anything I can do for you, however misguided my attempt to do so might be?"

There is a long, long silence, in which you're sure you could hear a pin drop, as you wait for his response. He stares up at you with blank eyes, and you glare back down, eyes narrowed and just daring him to brush you off again.

"Pretend to be Dirk and talk to Dave," he says at last, and you flinch involuntarily at the thought, only to give him a look of disbelief when he adds, "You said you convinced him when you did, and you sure as hell convinced me. Show me your magic."

"How will that make you feel better?" you ask skeptically, but you are already on your feet and so is he.

He gives you a look that says  _what are you, a moron_ , and says flatly, "Anything to get back on that insufferable prick is good enough for me."

You grimace, because you can relate.

* * *

You bring it up after you had managed to wrangle Dave into going to Starbucks - an hour after he told you why he's depressed - because coffee almost always makes life seem better.

  
[ ](http://68.media.tumblr.com/3d8fb131389f88274c21de6ef1f57204/tumblr_mwucamKci41scl9bto6_500.jpg)

You suppose that response will have to do.

* * *

Life settles into a steady rhythm, even with all the ups and downs the two of you go through. For you, it varies between overworking and being too much of a smartass and scaring your clients off, which results in your consequent exhaustion and doucheness for the following two hours; for him, it's either a good day or a bad day when he gets up, but he does his best to keep his head held high and when he does finally land a job, the two of you celebrate life's little victory with a cake from Bakery Egbert. (They have the best desserts there, and their cakes are especially killer.)

All is well until there's a knock at the door, and since you are busied with a fried rice dealio in the kitchen, Dave goes to answer. You know who it is immediately, because as soon as the door is open, Dave slams it shut again and there is the click of the lock. He stalks over to you, his mouth a flat line, as you finish up and dump the food into a bowl and expertly cover it in the clear plastic film stuff. Looks like lunch, you note with a touch of resignation, will have to wait.

"Think we can go out the fire escape?" he asks, grabbing the bowl in his arm for whatever reason and gesturing towards the window, and at first you don't think he's serious, but his face is set.

"Um. Yeah, probably," you say, eyeing the bowl and then the boy holding it. "I'm not sure if that's - "

He cuts you off with a grin and a whoop of "Let's go, Hal, we've got a brother to lose!"

And going down the fire escape is exactly what you do, with him carrying the rice all the way down. No one's around to see the two of you land flawlessly on the sidewalk outside, thankfully (someone probably would've called the police, you reflect), but it's only a few moments after you start walking with Dave that you get the sense of being watched.

"He's following us," you say with a sigh, and without a word Dave breaks into a run and veers into an alleyway, forcing your legs to speed up to keep pace with him. You follow him in blind faith and hope for the best as footsteps erupt behind you, and since Dave knows the city better than you do, you know better than to try and lead the way.

You're not the fittest person by far, however, and soon enough gasps shake your skinny frame as you pelt after Dave's orange shoes, only just keeping up as the time goes by. You turn a corner into yet another alley and see Dirk only a few paces behind, and you can't warn Dave about it because as soon as your older brother sees you, he speeds up his stride and catches you within seconds, his hand clapping down on your head with such force you let out a humiliating squeak.

When he spins you around by your shoulder and shoves you against the brick wall behind you, arm against your throat, you bite your lip to keep from crying out and lower your eyes as his shades, shaped like your own, bear down on you with a baleful, accusing glare.

"You're an asshole," he says coldly, and when you don't respond, he forces you flush against the wall without seeming to register your yelp of pain. Passerby think it's a normal mugging, ducking their heads and rushing past; somewhere inside your heart, you wish it was, and you hope Dave didn't run too far and then notice you were not there. "What are you thinking, getting other Dave all wound up in your business? He hasn't even done anything wrong!"

"I didn't - " You choke on your words as he holds you up by your collar, and you remember a little too late that yeah, he lifts and yeah, he's strong, so you shut up and don't say anything else, knowing there will be a ton of bruises on your body when you get up tomorrow even as your slender hand wrap themselves around his.

"I don't care how you got him to do it, move the fuck out," he growls, and your fingers try to pry his iron grip away so you can breathe normally because you'd just run a mile or something, goddammit. "Get the hell away from other Dave and _stay there_. God, why couldn't you just not talk to us like you used to?"

Something in you snaps. Sure, you'd pretended to be him, but in reality, as Dave had explained to you that day, it wasn't a big deal because you'd only ever done so with your family. However, if he gets irrationally angry and violent because you totally showed him up and made him look bad? That doesn't deserve him telling you that you deserve to be alone and friendless for the rest of your life; that doesn't give him the right to try to dictate what your final path should be, because that choice should be yours and yours alone.

You flip him the bird and tell him raspily, "He isn't other Dave, he's just Dave, shithead."

Your older brother is frozen in place for a few seconds with what you're sure are wide eyes behind his shades, and you can't help the smirk on your face as he wordlessly shoves you hard against the bricks, ignoring the gurgled noise coming from your throat, because in that moment you know Dave is there and sure enough, he calls out, "Yo, Dirk, put the kid down or I swear to god I will kick your scrawny ass into next week."

There is another quiet pause in time, and then drops you abruptly and you crumple to the ground, sucking in a huge gulp of air, and then another, as Dirk sets his sights on Dave. "You really think you can do that?" he asks in a low, dangerous rumble, and you force yourself to stand as you see Dave give him a wan smile.

"No," he says, and then he is right next to Dirk and is dumping the entire bowl of fried rice on his head before flashing past him. He grabs your hand and pulls you away as Dirk stutters and tries to get the stuff out of his face, and you realize what a success the dupe had been because Dirk is notorious for caring about his hair.

"Nice," you say appreciatively, as appreciatively as you can say something while sprinting back whence you came, and Dave lets out a laugh, wild and free.

* * *

"You don't have to spend all of your time with me, you know."

Dave shrugs, nonchalant, and places his phone on the coffee table as you settle on the opposite end of the couch. "I don't have many friends, so where else am I gonna go," he says matter-of-factly. "Besides, you're cool and you're my brother, it ain't a crime to hang out with you. Unless you don't want me to?"

"No," you say simply, and you share a look with him and a million words are exchanged while you do so. Then you ask, "I thought you were pretty tight with John, though? A year ago you brought him up every now and then when you pestered me."

"Oh. Yeah, uh. Well, there's a reason behind... yeah, there's definitely a stupid thing behind that."

"You don't have to talk if you don't want to," you begin, and he interrupts you.

"No, it's fine." He sighs, once, and leans his head down to rub his forehead.

He doesn't look inclined to respond, so you take the intiative and ask him.

  
[ ](http://40.media.tumblr.com/5f26aec54475e8fa4c46608a1a56ff97/tumblr_mwucamKci41scl9bto8_1280.jpg)

"It does run in the family," you say ruefully, and he chuckles, a soft little sound. Then you ask him, "Do you still sort of keep in touch with him? You said you don't speak much, so I wasn't sure."

"Not as much as I used to," he admits. "Jade's his friend from way back, so every now and then I'd see him around. After she, uh, broke up with me, he sent me a really cheesy sympathetic note and I haven't contacted him since."

"Do you think you should?"

“I dunno. Maybe.” He leans against the back of the couch and lets out another sigh. “I guess I’m just a coward. Can’t even keep the one friend I had.”

“It’s still not too late,” you point, and when he gives you a Look with a capital L you continue on, “If you tell him you were just confused or something, you can still salvage what you had. Probably.”

“Probably,” he echoes, and then, “What if I fuck up?”

“Then I guess you move on. Like I did, with your help,” you say, trying to get him to see that even if nothing works, you’d still be there for him. You don't know if he takes the hint, and you don't take the time to find out as you sweep on. "Better do it now 'cause I'll be needing the computer in an hour or so."

"Haaaaaal," he says petulantly, and when you go over, pull him off the couch, and patiently begin to drag him, curling your arms under his armpits and laboring to pull his dead weight on the floor, he starts to laugh even as he lies limp. "You're not what I expected, you know, bro."

"You wouldn't be the first to say so," you say, and then he gets to his feet on his own, takes a few deep breaths, and disappears into your room, closing the door behind him.

You hope it goes well, and set to work on cleaning up the living room. But, when he comes out fifteen minutes later with an unreadable expression on his face, you sigh and suppose that not all chances taken end in success. _C'est la vie_ , you suppose.

* * *

Dirk comes visiting again when Dave's out at work and you're just finishing up another code; typical of the guy, really, to pounce when your guardian angel isn't around. You'd always thought he'd be the head of guerilla warfare if the zombie apocalypse happened.

"Hi," you say at the door, opening it to the extent that you could see but not enough that he could wedge himself inside. You know how useless that is because you are a scrawny albino kid while he's tall and strong and muscular, but hey, it makes you feel better so there you go. "Are you here to yell at me again?"

"I should punch you," he says in response, his equivalent to an elaborate middle finger, and you shrug. "What do you plan on doing?"

"Living," you reply, and he tenses as you go on, "Maybe find my path, decide what to do. Make some friends, if I'm lucky. Who knows - "

"I meant with Dave, dipshit."

"Are you implying sexual intercourse?"

"Oh my god, no, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

You shrug again, a faint smile on your face. "According to you, a plethora of things."

His jaw clenches and you watch, undisturbed, as his fingers curl at his side. "Stop being a smartass and answer the damn question."

"Why don't you ask Dave?" you suggest with an unconcerned air. "He can tell you what's going on with his life better than I can."

"What are you going to do with him, Hal." He is outright growling by now, and this time you know you aren't going to get away without physical violence without actually givng a proper response.

Except your mouth keeps on running on and you end up informing him, "I can tell you the answer you want to hear, or the answer that is true. Which would you prefer?"

Somehow, you see it coming - somehow, even though you're a scrawny-ass coder who does nothing but sit inside on a chair all day - and you duck down to avoid his fist, a smile on your face. You don't avoid the next one because there's a rule somewhere that you only get one miracle a day or something, and you stumble back with a yelp when his other hand clips your shoulder.

"You're stalling," he says afterwards, and you look up at him as he looms over you. "Answer the question."

"Absolutely nothing," you say, and then you pull yourself to your feet. You have a feeling your shoulder is going to be permanently bruised and vaguely wonder whether you should see a doctor. "Dave just lives here. Sometimes we hang out, but most of the time we're both working or doing something else."

"I don't believe you."

"Of course you don't, because I didn't tell you what you wanted to hear," you reply, and then you say accusingly, "I did ask you what you wanted me to say."

You narrowly avoid a broken nose as you make a run for the couch, using it as a barrier between you and him as he enters your dominion, shutting the door behind him before he approaches. "I don't know what you did to convince Dave, but you need to get out of his life," Dirk tells you, and you hold back the laughter bubbling in your throat because he might severely injure you and you can't afford that at the moment, money-wise.

"This is _my_ apartment," you tell him. "He _asked_ me if he could move in. Why are you blaming me? Why the hell don't you just go talk to  _him_?"

"He won't give me straight answers because he is under _your_ influence." Oh god, how can he keep a straight face saying that?

"And what makes you think I will? I could tell you anything discriminating about me and you would pounce on it like a rabid dog, but if both of us give it to you straight you're just going to insist we tell you whatever the fuck you want to hear."

He says nothing, so you go on.

"In fact, why do you even care? Beforehand you and Dave didn't give a shit about me and Dave, and the only reason you care now is that that Dave is living in the same place as me and this somehow gets your feathers all ruffled." You pause, and then you say conversationally, "You know, Dave really needs a new name. It's confusing to call him Dave when there's other Dave, too."

"He's the other Dave, not Dave," Dirk clarifies.

"No, the one who lives here is Dave. Our other brother is other Dave."

"That's Dave. The orange one is other Dave."

"No, the red one is."

"The orange one is."

"The red one is totally other Dave."

"The orange one here is other Dave, the red one is Dave. Jesus Christ."

"No way. This Dave is Dave, that Dave is other Dave."

"It's the other way around, dumbass - Dave is other Dave, other Dave is Dave."

"Dave is Dave and other Dave is other Dave."

Dirk throws his hands up in exasperation and shouts, "Dave is not other Dave, he's just Dave!"

The silence that follows is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. But when you have to turn your face to hide your grin, shoulders shaking as you try not to burst out laughing, Dirk cracks a smile and starts chuckling as well.

"Truce?" you offer after you've gotten reasonable control of yourself, holding out your hand.

"Fine," he says, taking it and squeezing a little too hard. Guess this isn't over yet, but whatever. "Don't you dare do anything to him, Hal."

"Oh, please, as if I could hurt a fly," you say, and he nods and is out the door before you can even say "see you later, maybe," and the words remain suspended in the sudden silence.

* * *

"Oh." You look up from the table at Dave's tone, which goes from wary to friendly as he greets, "Hey, Lalonde."

Lalonde? "Good afternoon, Dave." Yep, you'd recognize that smooth, mellifluous voice anywhere. "Is Hal in?"

"Don't know why you're asking when you can see him from here."

  
[ ](http://24.media.tumblr.com/4807b10d4a4d5c17ce489e1770f32af9/tumblr_mwucamKci41scl9bto9_1280.jpg)

"Hey, Rose," you say, and her smile widens as she steps in at Dave's gesture. "What brings you here?"

"Just checking on my only younger siblings," she says enigmatically, shrugging off the strap of her bag and setting it on the coffee table in front of the couch. "Dirk has been complaining incessently on Hal's, and I quote, 'negative influence' on you, Dave, and I figured I would come to witness aforementioned 'influence' myself."

"Fuck him too," your brother replies absently, watching like a hawk as Rose digs through her bag. "What're you doing?"

"Here." She takes out what looks to be a folded slip of paper, smooth and pristine in her care, and gives it to Dave. "John asked me to give this to you. He did not tell me much, but I gathered your last conversation with him ended on a rather sour note."

"That's one way to put it," Dave says, twisting the paper this way and that as if looking for a blemish, before unfolding the paper. He reads it with a growing smile until he hands it over to you, grinning. It smells faintly of lavender and cakes, a surprisingly good mix.

dear dave,  
sorry for being such a dick yesterday. your message caught me off-guard, and jade kept on telling me you weren't worth my time or whatever. so did dave. other dave? whatever.  
anyway, i spent the evening thinking about what i'd said to you and all that and figured it was totally unwarranted. completely and utterly so, in fact! i can't believe i turned my back on one of my friends because i took the advice of another. she might know you pretty well but i've known you longer :B and experience totally counts in this case!  
what i'm really trying to say is that i'm sorry. i hope you can forgive me being a dumbass and a bad friend, and i hope you don't send your new roommate to hunt me down. how is he, by the way? you mentioned him a few times and i kind of want to meet him sometime. well, if you don't hate me, at any rate.  
\- john

"So I'll finally get to meet this mythical John?" you ask, giving it back to Dave.

"You'll like him, I think," Rose says with a nod. "He is a very loyal friend, if a bit boisterous and optimistic. He balances the Strilonde charm quite well."

"This is great," Dave says, positively beaming, and you wonder just how important this John character is as he tells you enthusiastically, "Trust me, he's awesome, for all of his inherent dorkiness. But don't tell him I said that."

"Naturally." You share a look with Rose, because if anyone was an inherent dork, it's the orange-haired boy rocking back and forth on his heels in front of you.

"Why not get in touch with him now?" your sister suggests. "Both Hal and I are here. We can plan a get-together that we can all attend much more easily."

Dave smiles, and even though you feel a little jealous, you know you're looking forward to meeting this kid just as much as he is to seeing him.

* * *

It's morning a few days after Rose's visit, and you've exited your room after coding all night to find no breakfast on the table, and you don't find Dave anywhere at all. All there is that indicates he was even here at some point during the day is a note scrawled in his very familiar loopy writing, which is kind of a mix between Rose's and other Dave's, but you don't stop to admire this as you read what it says.

_out doing important shit, youll see what i mean when i get back. dont burn the house down or im stopping this wild rumpus party. - dave_

Well, that's not suspicious at all, you muse to yourself, but you don't try to bother him by texting because you refuse to stoop as low as the worrying housewife, except that's sexist and Rose has been systematically slapping that sort of thing out of your thoughts. You're finding it easier to catch yourself doing it, now that you think about it, but anyway you're not going to try and bother Dave when he clearly has more important things to do.

Yup. That's definitely a thing that's not going to happen.

TT: Nice note. Definitely a keeper.

You have no self-control whatsoever, but you don't try to force yourself to drop the phone after you pressed send. Goddammit, self.

TG: finally out of your coding coma i see  
TT: I had to get it in by eight this morning, don't even start.  
TG: ha ha okay  
TG: listen could i text you back in like thirty min im being stared at like im some graffiti drawing badboy and id rather make a good impression  
TT: Sure, if you tell me where you are.  
TG: its a surprise  
TG: ill tell you when i get back is that cool

No, but you can't tell him that it isn't. You're not _that_ needy. Though it looks like you might be out of milk.

TT: Pick up some milk on the way back and it's a deal.  
TG: what am i some sort of  
TG: wait cant say housewife or rose will try and shoot me  
TG: or maybe brain me with her knitting needles idk  
TG: anyway seriously bro we are so domestic i cant even begin to comprehend how we started to act like this  
TT: Stop texting me and get back to whatever you're doing, dude. Just remember the milk.  
TG: well duh  
TG: see you  
TT: Later.

You guess that's that. Nothing much else to do today, you think, so you might as well get started on those codes PSIIONIIC asked you for a few days ago for some sort of 'side project'. You're almost certain he's going to try and hack into the government to get their attention - it would at least get him hired, if he made enough noise about it. You're not too worried, so long as nothing traces back to you, and considering who PSIIONIIC is you doubt that will happen.

You are jolted out of your thoughts when there's a knock at the door. Despite your logical side knowing it's impossible, you are still half-expectant to see Dave's face staring back at you as you open it - but no, it's some blue-eyed, buck-toothed guy with rectangular glasses whose smile doesn't fade even when you know you're not the person he was looking for.

"Oh! Hal, right? Hi, I'm John!" You carefully shake the offered hand, and he pumps it enthusiastically enough that your shoulder cracks ominously. "You must be Dave's roommate!"

"In a manner of speaking," you say hesitantly. "You looking for him?"

"Hehe, caught me! But I'm guessing he's not here, huh." He looks like a dejected puppy for all of two seconds, and you wonder how the hell he became friends with somelike like Dave as he brightens up again. "Do you know when he's coming back?"

"Probably within an hour," you reply, as your brain runs the calculations and yeah, given how he'd texted you in thirty minutes and would have to go get milk and then bike back, you've given a safe range of time. "Do you want to, uh. Come in, I guess?"

"If it doesn't bother you! I can't wait to see his face when he comes in the door. Do you have a bucket?"

You don't ask why he needs a bucket when you give him one, a plastic bin that was originally used for cleaning products, and you tell him you'll be in your room coding but he can help himself to whatever he wants in the kitchen. He actually insists on making something upon learning that you haven't eaten, and you are lured out of your room when you smell delicious scents wafting through the crack beneath your door.

You crank up his merit value to a seven, as opposed to an earlier three. When you spy the bucket balanced precariously on the door, you make it a ten. Not bad considering your personal scale was out of fifteen.

"Sorry, I took just about everything in your kitchen! But I think I'm a decent cook so it should taste all right." He watches as you get a plate, sit down, and proceed to shovel everything on the small counter onto your platter before stuffing your face, oh my _god_ you wish you could cook this well. "I'm guessing it's pretty good, then."

"Jesus fuck yes it is," you say, but it comes out as "Jebuth fuck yeb it ibth" and he only laughs. Then he laughs harder as you hear Dave's voice say, "Dude, why's the door not closed?" before opening it, and he then lets out the highest-pitched screech you've ever heard in your life.

John's leaning heavily on the counter, pounding his fist on its surface, when Dave gets up, sopping wet, hauling the bucket with him and slamming the door. "Hal," he says menacingly, but then his eyes focus on the noodles sticking out of your mouth, and soon enough he's right besides you, pigging out. "This isn't over," he says to John, pointing his fork at him, and John snickers as he watches the two of you eat.

"Of course not. So, what were you doing?"

"I see you didn't get the milk," you tell him pointedly, and he rolls his eyes.

"Didn't have any money. Besides, thought you'd want to see this first." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a heavily-folded piece of paper, and you meticulously straighten it out on the counter. John leans over to see it but Dave blocks his view with a warning look, and you hardly notice how John respects his space and does not intrude. It takes you a long time to say anything else.

"You got your name changed," you say at last, your throat feeling constricted, and Dave nods. "That is. That is very good. Should I call you DS from now on?"

"Preferably," he says, and John gets the memo and bobs his head even as Dave - DS adds, "But you don't have to if you forget."

"As if I would forget," you say, handing the paper back to him and giving him a one-armed hug. He accepts it, but doesn't return it as his hands are occupied with John's delicious foodstuffs. "Congratulations."

"Yeah, dude, congrats!" There's that blinding smile again from John, and you're glad for the shades on your nose.

"Thanks," DS says, and even though it's quiet, you know that he really does mean it.

* * *

Dirk keeps berating you, DS keeps intervening, Rose keeps in touch, and you keep on living.

It's not actually as hard as you thought, as you start to let more people in. First it's just your siblings, really, and even then, it mostly extends to Rose and orange Dave. You do eventually go to other/real Dave's at both Dirk and Dave's request, first telling him that you've been pretending to be Dirk (he finds this hilarious) and then punching him for stealing Dave's girlfriend (which results in bruised knuckles and him ruefully admitting as he rubbed his cheek, "I deserved that."). He manages to extract a promise from you, somehow, to keep in touch every few weeks, and he introduces you to Jade, who is just as amazing and beautiful as you had heard.

Rose brings you over to Roxy's a few days later when the latter isn't completely hammered, and seeing her sober is one of the strangest things you've witnessed, because Roxy is a fucking _genius_. You all sit down to play Scrabble and, for the first time in years, you lose, and then when you ask her about her new science shit, she starts going off on things you've never even heard of, let alone understand. She's cool, and you wonder if you will ever see her sober ever again afterwards. (Rose tells you there is an unfortanately very small margin of that happening, but you can hope.)

Slowly, you learn to accept new people in your life, and soon enough John or Dave or Jade or Rose can be seen in the apartment at almost any given time. DS was right, John is pretty cool, and even though it can get awkward sometimes with Jade, she's pretty cool too. Even Jake comes over on occasion, sometimes with his girlfriend Jane, and as long Dirk isn't crashing that day their presence is welcomed. Mostly, anyway - you deliberately get on Jake's nerves in some passive-aggressive payback for Dirk, and you don't know if your older brother appreciates it but you like to think so.

You get hired by some startup to code some of their programs, and since they are stationed across the country, they let you stay where you are and work from home. They pay you well and the head honcho is none other than your old friend PSIIONIIC, who ends up being a beanpole named Sollux Captor; you catch up with him, finding out he has a childhood lisp and somehow attracts all of the best ladies, and you game with him online every Saturday at nine. (He wasn't actually hacking into the government, which was boring, but he found it hilarious when you told him that's what you thought he was doing and promised he would try it sometime.)

You and DS still reserve lunchtimes for the two of you at least three of seven days of the week, usually more. You're the youngest of the sibs, after all, and you both agree that the youngest should stick together. It's weird sometimes - for all that you are older than him, he's always the one looking out for you, watching. He is so different compared to the rest of your brothers, myriads of emotion flitting across his face as quickly can be, always terribly sincere, constantly earnest and always failing to hide what he feels from you. Maybe from the rest, sure, but not from you. You've known him for too long.

You remember it when you send off an email to Captor with the code that he will no doubt embellish and make perfect in every which way, when DS manhandles you out of your room and into the sunlight, when you're holding a warm drink and you're walking back home with your brother - _what is life?_   you think to yourself, remembering a conversation from ages past from a man you used to despise and ignore.

And right now,

  
[ ](http://68.media.tumblr.com/70e0393621c2a4022041850a0c59d2f4/tumblr_mwucamKci41scl9bto10_r1_1280.jpg)

you think you know.

**Author's Note:**

> If you didn't read the beginning notes: reminder that you can click on the pictures for a larger size. Which I did not draw, by the way! Those were done by the lovely [xayti](http://xayti.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Also, I'm not sure what Davesprite's handle would be, so I just kept it at TG.


End file.
